Touch
by Brightdreamer
Summary: Sam's rescue from Clu doesn't come soon enough. Flynn's reunion with his son is now tainted by what his duplicate has done. Quorra does her best to help as well. TRIGGER WARNING: Rape recovery.
1. Outlands

**Title:** Touch

**Fandom: **Tron: Legacy

**Rating:** R

**Warnings/Triggers:** Rape recovery

**Kinkmeme Prompt:** Sam gets captured by CLU and is rescued, but not before CLU gets to have his devious rapey ways with the boy. Cue Flynn trying his hardest to comfort and take care of his son in the aftermath.

He's standing in front of his father, his _real_ father this time, being hugged and held and everything is fine, is _going_ to be fine now. Sam can't bring his arms up to embrace the man in return, can only take deep, shuddering breaths as Quorra explains what's happened.

"Clu had him on the Lightcycle grid. I intervened."

_Not soon enough..._

Kevin Flynn is asking what brought him here and Sam hears himself answering something about the page, the page that Alan received, but everything is starting to go tunnel-shaped and blurry with more than just the tears in his eyes. He knows it's his father here with him now but all he can see and feel is

_cold hands moving over his skin, the bodysuit disintegrating as the man with his father's face sneers down at him, holds him down_

The older man is moving away now, saying something about dinner and suddenly all the adrenaline that has been keeping Sam going until now drains out of his body in a shaky rush. "D-dad...?" His own voice sounds very far away and the glowing floor is suddenly very close and Quorra's arms are around him, keeping him from hitting his head. She's calling for Kevin and he feels his father's hands on him, gathering him up into his arms, and he knows, he _knows_ they aren't the same hands, but he can't stop himself from jerking away, still feeling

_his wrists bound to bedposts but there's nothing soft beneath him, only hard metal and it's all cold as the man moves over him, that familiar-strange face laughing, mocking_

Sam hasn't eaten much today (today? Tonight? Is it still...?) but what little there is comes up onto the pristine white floor by Quorra's knees. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, trying to murmur an apology as his father's hand rubs over his back. He shudders hard, tries not to feel it, tries not to let his memory associate that touch with

_the electric tingle of Clu's fingers, touching, penetrating, violating_

He can't see, can't move, consumed by the touch and too-recent memory. Dimly, he hears Quorra asking what's wrong and hears his father telling him to just breathe, hold on to him, everything's gonna be fine, but then it all goes gray and for the moment, he feels _nothing._

* * *

><p>Kevin Flynn sits on the edge of the bed, watching the boy, the man, his <em>son, <em>sleep fitfully. A moan drifts from Sam's lips and Kevin reaches to take his hand, holding tightly, feeling Sam's fingers twitch and curl around his own. "What happened to him, Quorra?" he asks, inclining his head just a bit toward the program standing anxiously to one side.

"I... I don't know," she answers truthfully, her eyes wide. "I heard the announcement that Clu had captured a User, and that they were going to put him on the games. I got there right as they were starting. He seemed all right then, just confused about what he was supposed to do."

Kevin nods, his thumb moving in small, soothing circles over Sam's hand. There is a way... it would be an invasion, and it would be better if Sam could tell him what happened, but his son doesn't seem to be in much of a state to be telling him anything right now. And he needs to _know..._

"His disk," he says softly. "Let me see his disk."

Quorra helps him roll Sam onto his side, and the boy thrashes and cries out softly as he's moved. Kevin's hand stroking his hair seems to calm him, though, and he soon rests again, his breathing becoming more even. The skin on his face and neck is flushed, hot and dry, and Kevin asks Quorra to fetch cool water and a cloth. She complies readily, hurrying out of the room, and Kevin is grateful.

He doesn't want her to see whatever might be shown on this disk.

Taking a deep breath, he flicks his fingers over the glowing surface, calling up the most recent entries. He sees Sam going into the old arcade, sees him being sucked into the Grid, captured by the guards, forced into the games... he smiles just a little, feeling an odd sense of deja vu. He skips ahead just a little, frowning as he views Sam's meeting with Clu. Something about the way the program made Sam think he was him for a short time makes Kevin irrationally angry. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to move on.

"_I'm not your father, Sam. But I'm very, very happy to see you."_

Kevin watches, feeling an increasing sense of horror as Sam is dragged into a small side room. He watches from Sam's eyes as he's bound, hears his yells of protest, sees Clu's smirking face above him, can almost _feel_ Sam's horror and pain and disgust and he knows exactly what happened to him...

He quickly turns the video feed off as he hears the door open behind him. Quorra doesn't need to see this... she wouldn't understand, and he doesn't want to explain.

"Is Sam Flynn all right?" Quorra's voice is soft as she moves to his side, setting the requested items on the side table. She tilts her head to one side, observing the expression that Kevin can feel on his own face. "Are _you_ all right?"

Kevin takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. _Be still. Be calm. For Sam's sake, if nothing else._ "He was hurt by Clu," he says, finally. "But we're going to help him now."

* * *

><p>When Sam comes back to awareness, he's lying on something soft, and something cool is resting on his forehead. He can hear hushed voices beside him, and he strains to focus on the words, though he quickly determines it doesn't matter. His father's voice is distinct, soothing, calming, nothing like that... that <em>thing<em> that touched him...

_laughing harshly, mocking, cold voice, cold body, electric cold hands everywhere all over him_

He gasps and jolts, having drifted into a dark half-sleep again, the memories too vivid in that dream state. Struggling against the blankets covering him, he pushes himself upright, feeling constricted, his chest tight and heavy, his breath catching.

"Easy, kiddo." A hand rests on his shoulder, large and warm even through the thick fabric of his strange clothing, steadying him, and he forces himself not to pull away. "You're okay now. You're safe here." He can feel his father's presence next to him, but he can't look at him yet, can't see that older face that seems so much like that one

_sneering down at him, speaking in his father's voice, saying dirty, horrible things_

Sam drops his head, draws in a few gulps of air, and slowly the room stops spinning around him. A glass is pressed into his hand, and he brings it to his mouth, willing his hand to stop shaking enough so that he can sip the faintly-glowing blue liquid. It's cool and tingles slightly on his tongue, and he feels better as it washes the foul taste from his mouth and settles his stomach. Quorra takes the glass from him when he's finished, setting it on the bedside table before sitting beside him, her eyes wide and curious in her pale face, questions on her lips that Sam doesn't want to answer, not now, not ever.

He feels his father's hand on his back again, sliding the identity disk into place, and he looks at him sharply, finally meeting his eyes. The terrible sadness in that older face tells him everything he never wanted to know... his father saw it all. Sam feels like crying, but he won't, he presses his lips in a firm line and jerks his chin up slightly.

_You understand._

The older Flynn nods, just faintly. _I saw._

Sam's eyes flicker over to the girl, still sitting beside him, looking between father and son with confusion. _Did she...?_

A quick shake of the head. _No._

Sam slumps in relief, sliding back down onto the pillows. He doesn't want to sleep again, not yet, the memories too vivid in his dreams. But everything hurts right now... and if he could just close his eyes again...

The touch on his arm makes him twitch and flinch away before he can stop himself. He blinks and looks up at his father, then forces a smile that he knows looks fake, forces his hand to move and curl around his dad's fingers. "I'll be okay," he says with more conviction than he feels. Right now, he feels like falling apart or being sick again or maybe going out and killing that bastard or just going _home_ and forgetting this place and maybe it'll just be a bad dream after all. His fingers are clutching his father's hand tightly, too tight, and he knows he has to be hurting him, but the older man doesn't complain, simply wraps his other hand around Sam's, pulling it to his chest and holding it there, sharing warmth.

"Course you will," Flynn says, and Sam knows he's doing the same, projecting more confidence than he feels. He appreciates the effort, and moves his fingers just a little against his father's hand.

Quorra shifts beside him, and Sam turns his attention to her after a moment. "Clu... hurt you?" she asks, her voice quiet. He knows she's curious, knows she's worried, but he can't, he _can't_ tell her what happened. It would be best if she never knew.

At least his father understands that.

"Yeah, he did." Sam tries out another shaky smile, attempting to reassure her. "He's... not a good guy, huh?" He looks to his father, questions in his eyes and on his lips. "You always told me about him, though. Tron and Clu... they helped you, right? What happened? Who is he? Why... _why_...?"

Kevin closes his eyes a moment, then begins to speak.

He tells Sam of the Grid, things he already knew or had figured out... when he was going to "the office," that he was really coming there. He speaks of the "miracle," the ISOs, then Clu's betrayal and Tron's demise. There's more, about the portal, about the disk, but Sam barely hears that. Sam watches his father's face, trying to memorize every wrinkle, every line, trying to wipe the memory of the younger version of that face

_smirking above him, hands pinning him down, forcing him open_

He shudders and draws in a shaky breath, interrupting the end of his father's story. "Sam...?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Just..." He swallows and starts to sit up, and immediately both Kevin and Quorra's hands are on his shoulders and back, helping him. Reaching for the drink by the bed again, he tries to calm. He hates feeling like this, hates feeling weak and sick and _hurt_ and powerless and he needs to _do something _or he's going to go crazy with it. "I hate this!" he bursts out, throwing the glass across the room and watching it shatter in a glowing mess against the white wall. "I keep... I keep _seeing_ it and _feeling_ it and I can't stop it and dad, dad, can't we just go _home_ now?"

He's shaking, shaking so hard he thinks he'll fly apart, teeth chattering with the force of it, like he's cold and will never be warm again. His father's arms are warm and strong, and Sam buries his face in his shoulder, fists balled in the coarse white fabric at his back.

* * *

><p>Kevin holds his son, hands moving in slow, comforting circles over his back as he tries to ease the tremors still wracking his body. A shifting on the bed catches his attention, and he meets Quorra's eyes as she kneels beside Sam, anxious and eager to help. He shakes his head just slightly.<p>

Right now, even he doesn't know what to do. He may be the Creator here, but right now he's only a father with a hurt son, a son he hasn't seen in twenty years. He can't just program a few lines of code to fix him... this is going to take much more than even the comfort and care he can provide here.

He has to get Sam home. No matter what the cost.

"Quorra," he says softly. "You told me once about a program who might be able to help us. Zuse? We're going to see him."

Quorra's eyes grow wide. "You can't! As soon as you're on the Grid, Clu will..."

"I know that." He cuts her off, still holding Sam tightly in his arms. Sam has stilled now, and by the slight tilt of his head, he can tell his son is listening to the conversation. He also knows that this is exactly what Clu wants, what he's planned all along by hurting Sam like this, but he'll be damned if he's going to let his son out of his sight for one moment right now. "It doesn't matter. Get the light-runner and my light-cycle ready. We're going into town."

To her credit, Quorra doesn't argue further. With an inclination of her head, she acquiesces, and slides off the bed to follow his orders. Once she's gone, Flynn lets out a heavy sigh and strokes his hand lightly down Sam's back again. "You doing okay there, kiddo?"

Sam draws in a shaky breath and lifts his head, not quite meeting Kevin's eyes. It hurts, but he can understand why it would be difficult for his son to look at him. After all, it was a program with his face who...

No. He can't think about it right now. Sam... Sam is the important thing.

"I've been better," Sam says, a faint hint of dry humor back in his tone, though his voice is raspy. Kevin forces himself to chuckle, resting his hand on the back of Sam's neck.

"No kidding." He rests his forehead lightly against Sam's, feels the faint fever, wonders again if he's making the right choice. "Quorra's right, you know," he says softly. "This is exactly what Clu wants... he wants me on the Grid, you and me, heading for that portal. He's gonna stop at nothing to get this disk, just so he can get to our world. Not a good thing, man. Guy doesn't dig imperfection... and what's more imperfect than our world?" He's rambling now, he knows it, but Sam's so quiet and still, he needs something to fill the silence. Funny, how he'd trained himself to appreciate calm, stillness, quiet, and now all he wants is to hear another word from his boy. "We could just wait it out, let the resistance take care of Clu. We'd be safe here..."

"No!" The word is spoken sharply, and Sam jerks away, his eyes wide. "No... we're going home, you said we're going...!" He's shaking again, and Kevin quickly moves to grab his hands, holding them tightly.

"We're going. Don't worry. I was just... talking." He smiles, hoping to reassure Sam, trying to stop those convulsive tremors that keep making his son's teeth chatter as though he's freezing. Finally, after a long moment, Sam takes a deep, shuddering breath and pulls one hand away, raking it through his short hair.

"Sorry, dad. It's all just so..." He shrugs helplessly, and Kevin squeezes his shoulder.

"I know. Just hang in there."


	2. End of Line

Sam leans back against the headrest of the light-runner, watching the dark scenery fly by. His father is driving, following the white shape of the light-cycle ahead of them. He'd been distracted on this trip before, hyped up on too much adrenaline, in pain, confused and disoriented. Now, he can see the dark beauty of the place, highlighted by the glow of the city ahead of them. "Hey... remember that night, when you didn't come home..." he starts, his voice hesitant. "You said..."

"I said I'd show you the Grid," Kevin interrupts, a faint smile on his face as he glances over at him. "Yeah. Should've seen this place back then. I couldn't wait to show it to you. Could not wait..."

Sam tilts his head up, watching the rain—_rain_, in a computer!—rolling in rivulets over the light-runner's canopy, distorting the lights as they enter the outskirts of the city. "Look at all you've accomplished," he whispers, his eyes drawn up to the towering, gleaming structures above them.

"Sam," Kevin's voice is choked, and his hand is warm on his arm... Sam wills himself not to flinch or pull away. This is his _father_, not that creature, that program. "I'd have given it all up for one more day with you."

Sam manages a small smile, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that want to fall as he glances at the older man, so different than what his child's memory holds, yet still so much the same. He turns his gaze back to the window, watching the fantastic vista of the city fly by around them. "Must've really been something before... before Clu screwed it up," he says with a sense of wonder, leaning his forehead against the cool glass. He's proud that he manages to say that name without choking. Maybe he'll be all right after all.

"No... no, he didn't screw it up. He's me. I screwed it up." Kevin's voice is distant, his gaze on more than just the road ahead as he muses. "Chasing after perfection..."

Sam can't breathe. _He's me. He's me._ A weight is crushing his chest, squeezing the air out of his lungs. _He's me._ No. No! He's suddenly pressed tight against the side of the light-runner, eyes wide and staring at nothing, arms pulled up protectively in front of him because he doesn't see his father sitting beside him anymore, no, no, he sees that man, that program, the one who only looks like Kevin Flynn, who disappeared so long ago, the one who

_sneered down at him with his father's face, held him down on the cold hard bed and pushed into him over and over and over and laughed at his screams_

The canopy is open now, hands are touching Sam, pulling his own hands away from his face, warm hands, cold hands, hands of a program, hands of a human, touching his hair, his back, his arms, trying to get him out of the vehicle.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. We were just talking, he got upset. Come on, Sam, talk to me..."

He can't breathe, can't speak, can't see, rain is falling on his face and he needs to get out, get _away_ from the touches and metal and air closing in around him. Flailing, pushing, gasping, he struggles out of the light-runner, staggering a few steps away to crash into the wall of a building. He ricochets off, stumbles again, catches himself on a corner and doubles over, retching, his stomach empty but still twisting and heaving in revulsion.

"Sam...?" Quorra's voice. A cool hand rests at the back of his neck. He shrugs her off, gagging again before he can regain control, then rests his head on his arm, staring at the alley wall as he tries to calm. _Breathe. Just breathe. You're fine._

"M'okay," he murmurs, then spits and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. Straightening, he glances over at his father and the girl, unable to quite meet the man's eyes. "M'okay now. Sorry."

"You're not," Kevin moves closer, reaching out toward Sam, but pulling his hand back when Sam flinches away. "Right. Quorra, stay here with him. I'll go into the club and meet this Zuse."

Quorra turns to him, her brow furrowed. "You can't go alone. It's too dangerous, and someone will recognize you. I'll go with you."

Kevin shakes his head. "You two will be safer together. I can handle myself." He glances at Sam. "And I don't want him left alone."

Sam feels his chest tightening again, his face heating as the two continue to argue over who will stay with him. He suddenly feels eight years old again, watching his grandparents bicker over what was to be done with him, sitting in the middle of the living room floor on a green shag carpet while hushed and angry voices echo around him. _I'm not a helpless child. I can do this on my own. I'm... not weak_. Backing away slowly, he eyes the elevator that would apparently lead them to Zuse... to the program who could help them. _I'll do it myself._ A sudden need to _get away_ sweeps over him, and before he can think better of it, he turns and dashes toward the open doors.

* * *

><p>It doesn't take Kevin long to realize Sam is gone. Instantly ceasing his argument with Quorra, he glances up and down the street, frantic, <em>he cannot lose his son, not now<em>, and there, there, the elevator doors are just closing. "Quorra, stop Sam...!"

Her eyes widen as she notices in the same instant, and they start toward the door in tandem. It's too late, though, and the car has already started up the side of the long building. Flynn slams his palm into the side, trying to override, trying to write new code as fast as the car is moving, but he knows he has to wait. A curse slips past his lips _Not very Zen, man, _and he closes his eyes and tries to calm. Sam has to be all right for a few minutes.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out what had upset Sam earlier, and Flynn has been called one many times. Could his absent-minded words, spoken in quiet conversation, have set Sam back so far?

Leaning against the wall, Flynn pulls his hood up over his head and folds his arms across his chest. Quorra stands quietly nearby, and he is grateful for her understanding his need for silence. No, Clu is not him, though he was created in his image and with his instruction. This... _deviation_, this desire to _harm_, this is _not him_. It can't be.

_There has to be something, though_, a nagging part of himself reminds._ Something that is capable of this... violence. Something capable of doing **that**__to your own son..._

No! No. Flynn takes a calming breath and looks up at the elevator again, still on its ascent, a figure just barely visible through the glass doors. _He is not me. Not like that_.

* * *

><p>Sam leans his forehead against the cool surface of the elevator, trying to get the pounding in his head to ease, the lights below blurring into a dizzying swirl outside the glass. He'd known as soon as the doors closed that leaving his father and Quorra was a mistake, but there's nothing to be done about it now. <em>I can do this. I'm fine.<em> He would get the help they needed from Zuse and return to them, strong and smiling and _heroic, _not broken and weak as he had been.

His head jerks up, causing a fresh wave of dizziness as the doors open, _too soon, we're not at the top yet_, and another program enters the elevator. She is beautiful, all in white and gray, snowy hair and dark-rimmed silver eyes. Sam's eyes widen in recognition.

"Sam Flynn. You remember me?" The familiar voice is modulated slightly, just a hint of the surreal, the _computer_ in her.

"Yeah. You gave me some advice." He straightens his back, tilting his chin up.

"And you followed it." Her head quirks to one side, those piercing eyes roaming the length of his body. "But you were still _hurt_, I think."

Sam clenches his teeth, wondering just how obvious his ordeal was to everyone else. "What makes you say that?"

A faint smile graces the Siren's lips. "Intuition."

He shrugs, trying to seem casual but feeling like he's utterly failing. "Nothing I can't handle."

She steps closer, her movements flowing and sinuous. Sam resists the urge to move back. "You're looking for someone."

There isn't nearly enough room in this elevator as it glides inexorably upward. "Lemme guess. Intuition again?"

A gloved hand reaches out to touch his arm, and Sam just manages not to flinch away. Her touch is gentle, soft, seductive, not like...

_No no no don't think about it...!_ He manages to fight off the memories, focusing on the entrancing way the girl... program's lips move. "I can help you, son of Flynn. Zuse is a difficult program to reach. You will need a guide."

Sam is running out of time. The elevator is nearing the top, the glass doors showing an incredible vista of the city in front of them. He swallows, nods, and the Siren takes his arm. "Thanks. Uh..."

"Gem. My name is Gem."

The music of the club hits him like a wave, crashing and pounding into his head, his body, through the soles of his feet and vibrating in his chest. A sea of people... programs... sway and move with the beat, sinuous, writhing, a mass to be parted or pushed through. Sam falters, hesitates, but Gem's hand is on his arm, her touch gently guiding him forward, and he plunges into the sea, barely having time to take a breath. Curious glances brush over him like fingertips, rolling over his body and flitting away, and Sam feels exposed, open, _naked_ in the crowd. A flash of red catches his attention and he stiffens, but Gem eases him past the guards. "They're occupied," she says airily, directing him toward a set of stairs near the bar.

A man in white holds court at the top of the stairs, cheerfully derailing a group of what appear to be resistance fighters begging an audience with Zuse. "That's Castor," Gem explains, leaning closer. "You want to see Zuse, you go through him." Her body brushes full-length against Sam's, and he feels an electric charge tingle through his suit. He shudders, clenches his fists, and manages only to take a half-step away.

_Stop it, what's wrong with you, she's not going to hurt you, just stop already. _He wonders if he's shaking or if it's just the music, and doesn't know whether to be relieved or apprehensive as Gem steps away to whisper to Castor.

The next few moments pass in a blur, and somehow Sam finds himself walking up to a private room with Castor and Gem. He falters, nearly stumbles on the hovering staircase

"_Bring him to my private chambers. I have something... special in mind for him." blackness, nothing, waking to be bound and alone with that thing with his father's face and cold cold hands_

A hand on his arm steadies him, and Sam knows he's shaking now as Castor holds him up, guiding him into the room and onto a couch, and he can feel the coolness of his hand even through the layers of his clothing. He jerks away with a gasp, pressing back into the plush surface, and it's all he can do not to scramble to his feet and run away. Castor is staring down at him, arms folded, head cocked and lips pursed in an appraising manner. "I see," the program says, nodding in finality. "Clu had a little _fun_ with you, did he? He does enjoy... pretty things." Castor's eyes rake over Sam's body, and Sam shudders hard, feeling the gaze like a physical touch. Does _everyone_ know, just by looking at him? Is it written on his face, on his body somewhere?

"I'm here to see Zuse," he says, his voice a harsh croak.

Castor stares at him a moment longer, then smiles, all white teeth and congeniality. "Of course you are. But first, my boy, it looks as though you need a drink."

* * *

><p>The elevator doors can't open fast enough for Flynn. He enters the club, striding purposefully forward, his hood pulled up to hide his face. It won't be enough, he knows, he'll be recognized as soon as he enters, and sure enough, a hush falls over the place despite the pounding music. He ignores the whispers <em>the Creator, it's him, he's here, he's here<em> and glances frantically back and forth, searching for any sign of Sam. Shadowy shapes move in a room above, cut off from the rest, and Flynn kneels, pressing his palm to the floor. Stairs rise at his command, ascending to the shielded room, and he races up, glancing to the side to see Quorra following. Someone at the bar moves to stop them, but at a glance from Flynn, shrinks back, bowing his head.

He bursts through the transparent field and freezes at the sight before him. Sam is slumped over on the black couch, a neon drink spilled on the floor by his hand, his head resting in the lap of a Siren program. His disk is missing. Time seems to freeze _no no he can't be_ and Flynn's heart screams and nearly stops before he notices the slight rise and fall of his son's chest.

"My my, the Creator himself, come to visit me!" a cheerful voice comes from the side, and Flynn whips his head around to see a white-haired program approaching from the shadows. The being twirls a glowing cane, and has an identity disk, _Sam's disk_, hooked over one arm. "How very _exciting._ I'm all a-flutter."

"Zuse!" Quorra gasps, stepping in front of Flynn, her disk and baton held at ready. "What have you done?"

_This is Zuse? The guy we could trust? ...Guess not._

"My dear Quorra," Zuse replies, moving across the room to stand near the couch. It's all Flynn can do not to launch himself at the program, but the Siren's hand is in Sam's hair and his son still _isn't moving_. _Stay calm. You can do this. Sam needs you to stay calm._ "You know me. Always... playing all the angles. This is the best angle for me right now." He hops up onto the couch, walking along the cushions, behind Sam's back. "And it's such a _lovely_ angle too, wouldn't you agree? Behold, the son of our Maker!"

Flynn finally finds his voice, and it is low and dangerous, not nearly as Zen as he'd like. "What have you done to him?"

Zuse looks at him, grinning widely. "Oh, nothing much. A little cocktail of my own design, just in case a User ever were to visit. He so needed to _relax_, you see. After all the poor boy's been through..." He slides down to sit behind Sam, slipping his disk back into place with a gentle _click,_ and Flynn knows that Zuse has seen everything too. "Can't say I blame Clu, though. He is so very... _pretty_." Zuse's hand strokes down Sam's back, and Kevin loses what little tenuous calm he held. He's halfway across the room before he can think, his disk in his hand, ready to derez this whole place if it will get that program's hand off his son. But as fast as he moves, Zuse is faster, and when the red haze clears from Flynn's vision, he sees the man holding Sam against himself, a glowing identity disk pressed to his neck. Sam's head lolls back against Zuse's shoulder, his eyes barely open, though little awareness shows in them.

"I wonder, do Users derez the same way here?" Zuse says conversationally, his gaze locked with Flynn's. "I've heard that they 'bleed.' I'd so like to see that."

Flynn's teeth clench and grind, and he holds out his hand to stay Quorra, who he senses is on the very edge of darting forward. He cannot risk Sam being hurt, not again. "Let him go. I'm the one you want."

"Flynn, no!" Quorra is at his side, her hand on his arm. "You can't...!" He smiles, trying to reassure her, and steps forward again.

"Let the boy and Quorra go. I will stay." Flynn slides his own disk back into place on his shoulders, holding his hands out in surrender.

Zuse tilts his head to one side, seeming to consider. One hand plays absently up and down Sam's chest, and Flynn clenches his fists, seeing his barely-conscious son shudder and recoil. "Mm... no, I don't think so. Clu was very clear... he wants all of you." His grin turns serious, and he meets Flynn's gaze levelly. "I believed in the Users, once. What can you do now, Creator?"

Explosions and screams echo from the club outside, the beat of the music changing to accent the sounds of chaos. A cry of "Resist!" rises above the rest, and Flynn turns his head to catch a glimpse of blue and green circuited programs fighting desperately against the battalion of red guards who have crashed through the ceiling.

_There is no other way. We must fight._

With a glance at Quorra, he nods, almost imperceptibly. _Chaos. Good news._ Lowering his gaze, he focuses on Zuse again, the full force of his User power directed at him. Zuse's eyes widen, just slightly, and his grip tightens on the disk held to Sam's throat. "Now, now, F-Flynn. Wouldn't want your boy hurt, would you?"

"I'm asking you. I'm _warning_ you. Let him go." Flynn steps forward again, watching in his peripheral vision as Quorra circles to the side. The Siren has risen to her feet and drawn her own disk, facing off against the other as sounds of fighting draw closer to the force field by the entrance. Sam's eyes blink and open wider, and Flynn can see him struggling to focus. His lips move silently _dad... dad..._ and Flynn can see him tensing and oh god he hopes he'll know what he needs him to do...

There, there, the moment he's been looking for, Sam brings his hands up to shove at Zuse's arm and Flynn _moves_, faster than has in cycles, years, decades, leaping over the table in the room, not bothering with his own disk, just diving at his son and the program holding him, knocking them both to the floor, rolling, rolling, a flash of whirling light, a gasp, blood, blood _whose is it oh god Sam..._! Quorra is a blur of motion and light, kicking, spinning, fighting with every trick she's ever learned and Flynn can barely spare a moment to be proud of her. There are other programs in the room now, red blue white green and Flynn slams his palms to the floor, sending out a pulse of his power, code flowing through all levels, User power feeding through the Grid to help the ones loyal to him and disorient the guard. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Zuse and the white Siren retreating into another alcove, but he can't be worried about them now, not when Sam is motionless and bleeding on the floor in front of him.

"Quorra! We're getting out!" He gathers Sam into his arms, rolling him over carefully, breathing a sigh of relief as he notes that the wound doesn't seem to be as bad as he feared: a gash running from his left shoulder to chest, not too deep, but the bleeding will need to be stopped soon. Sam groans and turns his head, still not entirely conscious, and Kevin lifts him easily, adrenaline, fear, _love _boosting his strength. When was the last time he carried his son? Sam feels barely heavier now...

Quorra clears a path for them through the melee, and Flynn can almost believe that they'll make it. The elevator doors are closing and he's setting Sam down gently on the floor when he feels a jerk and tug at his back, and he whips around to see a red guard drawing back a grappling hook, his identity disk on the end of it. But it's too late, there's a bomb, and the elevator is falling, falling, almost faster than he can program a fail-safe into the core code.

The doors open with a soft _ding_ and Flynn breathes deeply, trying to regain his calm. His heart is racing, pounding in a way it hasn't in years, and he can't focus, can't meditate, can't separate himself from the emotion of the moment. Quorra is babbling behind him, apologizing, blaming herself for trusting Zuse, and he finally cuts her off with a wave of his hand. "Quorra! Be calm. Be still." He takes a breath, then another, kneeling beside Sam, frowning as he looks over his injury. Bright red blood flows in rivulets down his chest and arm, staining the circuits red-black, making the armor slick. "We need to get him out of here." Slipping off his own cloak, he wraps it around Sam, trying to keep pressure on his shoulder. Sam moans and flails weakly, but soon calms when Flynn touches his face and strokes his fingers lightly through his hair. "You'll be all right, kiddo. Just hang in there." _I have to get him home..._

Straightening, Kevin glances up and down the street beyond the elevator, searching for inspiration. A slow smile spreads across his face as he spots just the thing they'll need: a Solar Sailer getting ready to depart, just across the walkway. "Quorra... did I ever tell you about jumping a freight train?"


	3. Solar Sailer

**A/N:** So as not to mislead anyone, if you're looking for a completely Sam/Quorra romance fic you're not going to find it in this story. This obviously parallels the movie so you will get _hints_ as you did there, but yeah, nothing too overt. The story is more about Flynn and Sam, but I didn't want to put that as the main characters and make people think this was Flynncest. :| (But this chapter should make the Sam/Quorra shippers happy...)

* * *

><p><em>He's cold, lying on something hard and metallic, leeching all the heat out of his back. His clothes are off and hands are touching him, roaming over his neck and shoulders, cold and warm both and confusing and Sam can't move and everything hurts and is he sleeping or awake and he needs to wake up wake up wake up NOW<em>

Sam comes back to consciousness with a gasp, sitting bolt upright... or trying to, at least. Hands hold him down, soothing voices telling him to relax, to calm down, but his heart is pounding and he cries out, flails, hits his invisible attacker _not again, not again, you can't have me again!_ His shoulder hurts _why, why does it hurt, what did you do to me_ and his head is spinning and it's all dark and blurry and he's going to be sick again but he doesn't and then it all fades to merciful black...

When he comes to again, his head is clearer, the sick-spinning easing into a faint wooziness even as he turns his head slightly. He's still lying on something hard and cold, and he has a brief moment of panic as he realizes that the top half of his suit is off. Drawing in a sharp breath, he tries to struggle upright, but gentle hands hold him down, warm, soothing, easing him back to the floor. Blinking his eyes open, all he can see is a dark sky and clouds overhead, a mockery of stars in the circuits and lights blinking through the cover. Finally, he manages to focus on his father's face above him, concerned and full of care.

_His real father, not that younger version, that copy, the one who..._

Swallowing, he tries to find his voice. "D-dad? What... where...?"

"Just relax, Sam. We're safe here. You're gonna be okay." His father smiles and squeezes his hand, then pulls away. Sam tries to sit up, but falls back, gasping as pain shoots through his shoulder and arm. He feels Quorra moving behind him, and then he's lying on something softer, pillowed on her leg, and the coolness of her body doesn't feel so bad right now because his skin feels like it's on _fire_. Everything hurts, and he just wants to go back to sleep...

"Stay with us a minute, kiddo." A hand touches his face, and Sam tries, he really does, forcing his eyes open to focus on the concerned faces above him. He tries a smile, but it feels weak even on his own lips.

"I'm with ya. Not gonna get rid of me just yet." Lying here isn't going to help him stay conscious, though, and so he moves again, trying valiantly to sit up. Quorra is behind him, her body shifting with his, and he finds himself leaning back against her shoulder, breathing heavily. Whatever drug Zuse had given him is obviously still in his system; or perhaps not, perhaps he is simply shutting down, his body overwhelmed with everything that has happened. How long has it been since he'd slipped into the dusty chair underneath the arcade? It feels like a lifetime ago...

He focuses on his father, who is kneeling before him, his fingers spinning a long line of code out of thin air, the code unspooling into a gleaming white strip of cloth. _What's that for...?_ It is only when his father's hands reach for him, gently pulling him upright, and begin wrapping the cloth—the_ bandage_ around his chest does he realize what has happened. Glancing down, he sees the angry gash in his skin, the cut still oozing blood, and he swallows and sways slightly, tilting his head forward to lean his forehead against his dad's shoulder.

"Sam...?" His father's voice is concerned, and he feels Quorra's hands steadying him. He takes a few shallow breaths, willing the vertigo away. He can deal with this... pain isn't something new, being a daredevil has had its price in the past. Besides, it gives him something else to focus on, something aside from what had happened only a few hours ago.

"M'okay," he murmurs, pushing himself back again. "M'okay. Go ahead." He lifts his head and tries a weak smile. "Guess... that all didn't go like we planned, huh?"

His father huffs out a breath, and Sam can tell he's agitated. "No. Not quite." His mouth is set in a grim line as he continues binding Sam's shoulder, his hands gentle and sure. "At least we all got out all right."

"Flynn's disk is gone," Quorra says softly, and Kevin shoots her a sharp look. Sam is certain he wasn't supposed to know that, not yet, and some part of him is irritated that they're trying to keep things from him, to _protect_ him. An intense wave of guilt follows that feeling, and he swallows and looks away, focusing on the metallic floor of... wherever it is that they are, he still isn't sure.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out. "If I hadn't gone off there alone..."

"Sam," his father begins, but Sam cuts him off.

"I just... couldn't stand being helpless anymore... I had to do something..." His breath hitches and the floor blurs in front of him. "I had to try... and it all went wrong..."

"Sam..."

"I couldn't... I couldn't do anything..." Sam's breath is coming in little gasps now, his chest tight. "And he saw that... he was going to..." The memory of Zuse standing over him swims back through his mind's eye, hazy from the drug, but clear in intent. That mocking smile, the insidious touches, the way the program _knew_ what had happened and was going to do the _same thing_... "Oh god, he was going to..."

"Sam!" He can't seem to get enough air, and his father's arms are holding him now, pulling him away from Quorra, keeping him from drowning in the guilt and repulsion.

"M'sorry... m'sorry..." he gasps over and over, eyes tightly closed. "M'sorry..." He's shaking again, hands balled into fists against his father's chest. The tears come this time, falling down his face almost unnoticed, but unable to be held back, and he's not even sure what he's apologizing for any more. Sorry for not coming to the arcade sooner... sorry for giving up on his father so many years before... sorry for letting Clu take him... sorry for being weak...

"It's not your fault, Sam." Gentle fingers card through his hair, warm and reassuring, and slowly, Sam begins to calm. "You have to believe that."

* * *

><p>Kevin holds his son carefully, feeling him relax against him, the choking sobs easing into soft sighs and slower breathing. It hurts to see Sam like this, broken and hurt, and he knows now that he will do <em>anything<em> to make it right. Even if Sam is no longer the little boy he left behind so many cycles... _years_ ago, he is still his son, and he will still protect him.

When Sam seems to be asleep, Flynn eases him back, and Quorra reaches out to help support him. Kevin smiles tightly, nodding at her in thanks, and quickly finishes bandaging the wound in Sam's shoulder. He flicks his fingers over the code in Sam's disc, easily rerezzing his suit over the binding and helping to hold it in place. Gently, he helps to settle Sam back against Quorra, who shifts to lean against one of the railing posts, holding Sam easily in her arms.

"Quorra... if something happens to me... make sure you get him out," Kevin says softly, reaching up to brush his fingertips lightly over Sam's pale cheek. The boy's face is shiny with sweat, and his skin is hot to the touch... not a good sign at all. He needs a hospital and real treatment, but Kevin isn't even sure if his injuries will transfer, once he returns to the User—the real world. He hopes they won't, for Sam's sake.

Quorra's eyes are wide and searching as she looks at him, her mouth set in a grim line. "Kevin. Nothing's going to happen to you. It... it _can't..._"

Kevin smiles and turns his attention on her for the moment, to the girl... the woman who has become like his daughter over these many cycles. "Removing myself from the equation, remember?" he says, touching her hand where it rests on Sam's chest. "Just... promise me you'll get him home."

She takes a deep breath and turns her hand, curling her fingers around his briefly. "I promise."

_Good girl._ Kevin squeezes her hand, then moves to stand, pulling a small vial out of the inner pocket of his robe. "Here. Give him this when he wakes up. It won't help as much as it would a program, but it might do a little good." He hands her the liquid energy, then stretches, taking a deep breath as he looks over the dark landscape surrounding them. "I'm gonna go knock on the sky and listen to the sound." He doesn't particularly want to leave Sam's side, not right now, but... he has a feeling that Sam and Quorra should talk, without his interference. Turning to walk away, he pauses, glancing back at the girl. "And hey... maybe you should tell him a bit about... yourself when he does, okay?" he says with a grin and a wink, then moves off a short distance to kneel on the cold metal deck of the Sailer.

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><p>Sam doesn't realize when he's drifted off again, but becomes aware of awakening. He's half-lying on the floor, leaning back against on something soft, his suit once again covering him. Tilting his head down, he sees a dark-gloved arm wrapped gently around him. "Quorra...?" He looks up curiously, meeting her gaze.<p>

"Hey." Her smile is warm, even though her body is cool, and Sam finds that he doesn't mind her touch. "Back with us now?"

"Yeah..." Sam lifts his head, finds himself still dizzy, and lets it fall back again. "Where are we, anyway?"

"Solar Sailer transport, on the way to the portal," Quorra answers, settling him back against her shoulder. "Here... drink this." A small vial is held in front of him. "Your father said it would help."

Sam looks at the flask dubiously, but takes it with his right hand, wincing as even the small movement causes a shift to his opposite shoulder. He swallows the contents in two swift gulps, feeling warmth immediately spread through his body, along with a surge of energy like he's just mainlined espresso. He feels better than he has in hours, though he isn't about to go base-jumping off any buildings any time soon. "Whoa... what is this stuff?"

"Concentrated energy," Quorra explains, helping him to settle more comfortably against her. "It would help a program more, if we'd suffered a catastrophic reboot, but I think it can help you Users too."

Sam notices that the lines on his suit are glowing brighter, even as he shifts to rest against Quorra's shoulder again. "Where's dad?"

"Over there," Quorra responds with a nod of her head, and Sam focuses further down the walkway, seeing the darker silhouette of the man kneeling before an unfurled sail of light. A bright glow illuminates him, gleaming from an unknown source beyond, and Sam almost laughs... the man really does look like some sort of mystical deity. Perhaps he is, to these programs here.

"How did you find him?" he asks, curious as to how and why a program like Quorra was living with his father. What was so special about her? Why had his dad chosen _her_ as an... apprentice?

Quorra is quiet a moment, and Sam has to twist around slightly to see her expression. She's chewing on her lip, her eyes distant. He's about to ask her what's wrong when she begins to speak. "It was during the Purge," she says quietly. "Clu was relentless. The Black Guards were executing ISOs in the streets. Everyone I knew... disappeared." She turns her head, shifting so she can look down at Sam, her unearthly eyes sad and full of pain. "Then they came for me."

Sam's eyes widen. "You're an ISO." It all makes sense now. His father hasn't just been keeping her as a companion or an apprentice, he's been _protecting_ her, all this time.

She nods, taking a shaky breath. "Yeah. The last one, from what I know."

Sitting up a bit more, Sam turns his body so he can watch her face, though his head still rests on her shoulder. "Go on..."

Swallowing, Quorra appears to regain some of her composure. As she tells the story of her rescue, Sam can see the adoration in her eyes, the care for his father, the _devotion_ to the Creator of the system, and he feels a pang of... what? Jealousy? Sadness? Loss? She had all these years with his father, and he lost him when he was only a boy. But he can't begrudge her the time, not really. How much has she lost, in comparison? She's the last of her kind, the _only_ ISO left, if she's correct... no wonder his dad's been looking after her.

"He'll want you to go back with us," Sam says quietly as Quorra falls silent at the end of her story. "You okay with that?"

"Of course," Quorra replies without hesitation, her arm tightening slightly around Sam. "He's told me so much of the User world, I'd love to see it. And I've read all the books he's shared with me. There's so many, but Jules Verne is my favorite... do you know Jules Verne?"

"Sure..." Sam murmurs sleepily, lulled by the rumble of the Sailer and the soft-yet-solid comfort of the girl holding him.

"What's he like?" Quorra's voice is excited, innocent, and Sam nearly laughs. It's... good, to feel something that isn't pain, or fear, or anything that makes him want to just forget this whole nightmare that began when he was sucked into this world.

Sighing softly, Sam turns his head to look at the front of the Sailer, watching the play of lights across the bow and the aurora borealis of energy dancing in the black sky above them. The bright gleam of the portal beckons them onward, leading them to hope and home. "Quite the view," he says, his voice slurred. He really just wants to sleep, and wonders how long this trip will be. He could sleep here... he's safe, Quorra is a comforting presence behind him, her touch not bringing the shivers of revulsion he's felt at any other hands. She's speaking again, talking about the portal, the way the glow told them the Creator was with them again, and his mind wanders as the world begins to blur into light and noise but then she's asking him something...

"Huh?"

"The sun. I've always imagined this to be like the sun... what's it like?"

Sam blinks slowly. He'd never thought about it... there _is_ no sun on the Grid, is there? It's been dark since he arrived, the only light being from the programs themselves or the buildings around them. "Man... I've never had to describe it before." He glances back, and Quorra's face is eager, expectant, shining in admiration, and he smiles faintly. "Warm... radiant..." His eyes are closing again, against his will, and his head lolls against her shoulder, cool against his flushed, heated cheek. "Beauti... ful..."


End file.
